


5 Times Witchers Were Too Asexual For This

by WordsAblaze



Series: Witcher Fics [32]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Asexual Witchers, Asexuality, Everybody Gets a Hug, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Witchers, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Soft Eskel (The Witcher), Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, Soft Lambert (The Witcher), Soft Vesemir (The Witcher), Sorry Not Sorry, Vesemir is So Done (The Witcher), Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher), Witchers Love Jaskier | Dandelion, Witchersexual Jaskier | Dandelion, i'm being self-indulgent, it's ace week, jaskier and aiden are friends, no beta we die like jaskier doesn't, that's enough tags i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27271585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsAblaze/pseuds/WordsAblaze
Summary: …and the one time Jaskier firmly got it through their lovable and yet ridiculously thick skulls that a little confusion here and there doesn’t change how much he adores them.
Relationships: Aiden & Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert, Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Vesemir, Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Series: Witcher Fics [32]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726360
Comments: 34
Kudos: 273





	5 Times Witchers Were Too Asexual For This

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the sheer amount of times i've mentally gone "aha nope, i am too ace for this" but also, credit to that one tumblr post i can't find atm about what lust smells like to witchers as well as @cloudspeck for giving me names for minor characters :)

**1 - Geralt**

Geralt can never comprehend how Jaskier gets into so much trouble.

He’d always thought the worst kind of threats came from mages and their ridiculous games of illusion and power but travelling with Jaskier makes him reconsider because it’s genuinely concerning how many people have death wishes on his behalf.

“Who is it this time?” Geralt asks, folding his arms and promptly cursing at himself for doing so as it proves he can be just as dramatic as the bard he’s trying not to concede to.

Jaskier grins, clearly picking up on the same thing. “It doesn’t matter, my dear witcher, because you already know you’re coming with me!” 

“I do  _ not _ !” Geralt argues, unfolding his arms and glaring.

“Oh come on,” Jaskier scoffs, winking at him, “we both know you’re already trying to figure out how to get out of wearing the clothes I’ve already had made for you.”

Geralt sighs. “Jaskier…”

But said bard has already left the room to return downstairs and as the sound of his lute travels through the inn, Geralt groans to himself.

He’s still groaning to himself when he’s dressed in three different shades of blue but he and Jaskier arrive at the feast the next day. He hadn’t bothered to ask what the occasion was so he just settles in the corner and watches as Jaskier weaves his way between everyone, biting down the part of his heart that yearns to be right by Jaskier’s side. 

Hours pass before he’s forced to move, spotting a rather tall stranger crowding Jaskier against a wall and feeling the subtle scent of fear radiating from them.

“-idn’t mean to, I swear! I’m certain you can also appreciate the beauty of-”

“My wife?” the man interrupts, practically spitting anger.

Jaskier laughs nervously as Geralt makes his way over, clearly stalling for time. “You must believe I had absolutely no inkling that she was betrothed and while I’m aware my apologies will not undo our actions, I implore you to perhaps-”

“Jaskier. There you are.” Geralt says, glancing between him and the angry husband.

“And who are you?” 

At that, Jaskier bristles. “Were you not listening to my performance? I  _ just _ sang about-”

“A Witcher. What, did he also sleep with your… uh…?” the man falters, clearly deciding that he’d rather not offend someone who carries around swords. 

Geralt and Jaskier share an amused look before Geralt shakes his head. “My bard was cursed with… irresistible urges… by a mage. You can’t blame him for it.” 

He’s almost certain Jaskier will grumble about this particular excuse for days - to which he’ll remind him that at least it’s not the one where he was kicked by an ox - but the angry husband seems to buy it, throwing him a pitying look.

“I didn’t know, I’m sorry,” he says sincerely.

Jaskier clears his throat. “Yes, well, it’s not something that one should sing about publicly, is it? You know how troublesome rumours can be…”

The man nods understandingly before leaving, at which point Jaskier punches his arm. “Geralt, you prat!” 

He shrugs, a tiny smirk on his face. “I wasn’t entirely wrong.” 

Jaskier seems to consider this before humming, leaning forward to plant a kiss on Geralt’s cheek. “Thank you.” 

He doesn’t get a chance to reply before Jaskier has slipped away to continue performing but really, it goes without saying that although Geralt doesn’t understand Jaskier’s actions half the time, there’ll never be a day where he doesn’t want to protect him from the consequences.

* * *

**2 - Eskel**

Eskel can never predict when the scent of watermelon will fill the air.

It’s a strange scent that he thinks should probably please him but for some reason only serves to surprise him every time it radiates from Jaskier at seemingly random moments.  To his credit, Jaskier tries his best not to make it too obvious or slip away before it becomes too overwhelming but sometimes it catches both of them by surprise and there’s no avoiding it.

He and Jaskier have been travelling north for a few months when they reach a town that Jaskier seems to recognise, immediately elbowing him. “Eskel! Eskel, darling, this is the town I was telling you about with that absolutely _magnificent_ tailor!” 

Eskel hears the question without Jaskier having to ask and smiles. “Yes, we can make a quick detour.”

Jaskier grins, squeezing his hand in thanks as the two of them continue walking. As expected, Jaskier launches into a comprehensive description of every doublet he’s had made by this one specific tailor as they make their way there, Eskel only really half paying attention.

“Jaskier!” someone calls out excitedly.

“Mikhail!” Jaskier calls right back, waiting until Eskel nods in amusement before letting go of his hand and embracing the man who must be the tailor.

Leaning against a wall, Eskel watches as the two of them start discussing the latest fabric patterns and shapes of buttons - he’s not even remotely interested but if Jaskier can learn how to take care of goats for his sake then he can stick around during a discussion about fashion.

And anyway, it’s a rather nice workshop, quiet and calm in comparison to the rest of the town. He doesn’t mind waiting, focusing on the sound of Jaskier’s excited voice as he lets his eyes close, one hand on the hilt of his sword just in case. 

It’s only when he hears Jaskier gasp and the cool scent of watermelon fills the room that he opens his eyes again, raising an eyebrow automatically. Jaskier glances over to him immediately, clearly about to explain, but Mikhail whispers something to him and he reddens, biting his lip. 

“Really? Buttons?” Eskel asks, equally as confused as he is amused.

Jaskier just shrugs. “I’ll, uh, catch up with you later?”

Part of Eskel wants to know what in Melitele’s name Jaskier finds so appealing about buttons but also, he really _doesn’t_. He’s learned from experience that sometimes - almost always, actually - not knowing certain things about Jaskier is better for both of them.

“Don’t get in trouble, bardling,” Eskel warns as a way of politely taking his leave.

“Love you too!” Jaskier calls after him, and not that he’ll admit it if asked but Eskel doesn’t stop smiling even after the scent of lust fades away entirely.

* * *

**3 - Lambert**

Lambert can never figure out why Jaskier flirts with almost everyone.

Not that he has anything against Jaksier’s flirting and the way it seems to plant warmth inside his chest but really, it seems pointless to flirt with so many strangers. And yet Jaskier does it the same way he breathes, which is to say he does so without really thinking about it.  And every time, Lambert watches as he trades carefully constructed compliments in exchange for food or wine or coin or literally _anything_ else. 

“Lambert? What are you frowning about?” Jaskier asks, flopping into the space across from him. 

When Jaskier raises an eyebrow, he only frowns harder. “I’m not frowning,” he lies.

Jaskier snorts. “And I’m a witcher.” 

“You wouldn’t know what to do with a sword if your life depended in it,” Lambert retorts.

“Depends what kind of sword,” Jaskier replies, stealing a potato from his plate.

He tries to think back to a single time where Jaskier has successfully beaten anyone in a swordfight but when his memory draws a blank, he frowns again. “You’re bloody useless in fights unless we give you daggers.” 

He doesn’t realise that Jaskier is trying really hard not to laugh until he does exactly that, almost choking on the potato before shaking his head. “Sorry, sorry, just- gods, you witchers are so adorable.” 

“Adorable?” Lambert echoes incredulously, seemingly destined to frown for the entire evening. “Like f-”

“Jaskier!” 

“Fabiann! It’s been too long!” 

Lambert grumbles under his breath but tunes out their mindless flirting out until Jaskier abruptly stands and coughs pointedly. “Lambert, I’m afraid I might need to leave for a little while.” 

What?

_Oh_.

It doesn’t exactly take a genius to figure out that for some reason, simply talking to someone is apparently far too appealing for Jaskier to handle.

“We leave at dawn,” Lambert reminds him.

Jaskier blows him a kiss before grinning and leaving with Fabiann. Sighing, Lambert turns back to his plate only to find that he doesn’t have any potatoes left. For some reason, that annoys him far more than the bard’s departure.

He ends up turning in early but the other patrons are too loud and he hates every second of each minute that passes. That is, until the door to his room opens and lets in not only the one person who won’t be punched for entering without knocking but also the soft scent of lavender. 

“Are you still awake?” Jaskier whispers.

After a moment, he hears Jaskier sigh before the bed gently dips behind him and one of Jaskier’s arms settles on his waist. 

“I’m sorry for leaving,” Jaskier murmurs into his skin, shifting even closer. 

Only because Lambert can’t stand the subtle guilt in the air - they’ve talked about this but the bard stubbornly refuses to continue feeling bad - does he place his hand over Jaskier’s and feign a yawn. “Shut up, Jaskier.”

“Adorable,” Jaskier replies, kissing the back of his neck before pulling the blanket further onto them both and proving that okay, maybe he can accept that adjective under  _ very _ specific circumstances.

* * *

**4 - Vesemir**

Vesemir can never understand why Jaskier loves Kaer Morhen so much.

He loves the place more than anything himself, of course he does, but there’s always a lingering bitterness in each room, a lingering reminder that the walls had once been witness to pain and sorrow and heartbreak. 

Jaskier doesn’t see any of it.

Instead, he fills any room he walks into with music and smiles and displays of affection that Vesemir hasn’t seen witchers indulge in for decades. It takes a few visits but soon enough, he’s on the receiving end of those displays as well and it's just as beautiful as it is surprising.

He finds himself loving the keep more when everyone smells of happiness and training sessions are filled with laughter instead of grumpy insults but those are aspects of life that he’s almost certain only a witcher can appreciate and as far as he knows, which is pretty far thank you very much, Jaskier is not a witcher. 

“Who stole my salts?” said bard yells, jolting him out of his musings, “I know you can all hear me! Give me back my salts, you handsome thieves!” 

Vesemir chuckles to himself as he hears the telltale sound of Jaskier running through the halls, no doubt going to fail in locating his bath salts because he’s almost sure he smelt them in the springs yesterday.  He goes back to reading, ignoring the general noise of Jaskier hunting the others down in the name of bathing justice until the bard bursts into the library, flushed and breathless. 

He looks almost guilty as he spots Vesemir.  “Apologies, Vesemir, I didn’t mean to intrude. I was merely- well, you most likely heard everything, right?”

When he nods, Jaskier glances around again, a small grin blooming on his face. “Does that window overlook any training grounds perchance?”

Vesemir sighs. “No, you cannot attempt to throw something at them from the window.”

Jaskier has the audacity to _pout_ but judges his tone well enough, making his way over to the window anyway. It’s only when the unmistakable scent of arousal appears that Vesemir somewhat regrets his decision; he looks over to Jaskier, who seems torn between wanting to flee out of embarrassment and wanting to continue staring out of the window for the rest of the day. 

“I- I don’t really have an explanation for this but uh, witchers?” Jaskier manages, gesturing outside to where Vesemir knows the other three are probably mid-brawl. 

“All I wanted was to read in peace, Jaskier.” Vesemir pinches the bridge of his nose, closing the book. 

Nodding quickly, Jaskier places a hand over his chest. “I swear I won’t even  _ think _ of entering the library for… for a whole week! Yeah, I can do that, I’ll make sure to stay as far as possible for as long as you like but just um, could you maybe not hold this against me, please?”

Vesemir wants to explain that he couldn’t possibly hold Jaskier loving his boys against him but he’s pretty sure Jaskier knows that and is just nervously rambling so he walks over and gently claps the bard on the back of his head. “As long as you’re not stupid enough to jump into a fight just because you’re attracted to it.”

“No promises,” Jaskier replies, winking.

* * *

**5 - Kaer Morhen**

Kaer Morhen can never shut its doors to Jaskier.

And really, none of the resident witchers would want to do anything of the sort since they love bringing their bard home for the winter and they love having a non-witcher around because he brings comfort with him. Unfortunately, he also sometimes brings about immense exasperation.

Nobody’s complaining, of course, because they’d rather _die_ than disrespect one of the few people so openly welcome at the keep, but that doesn’t stop them from sometimes needing to walk out of the room to avoid punching something or someone.

Naturally, a bunch of wolf witchers walking out of the room wherever Jaskier confuses them is utterly hilarious to anyone else who visit. 

Especially Aiden. 

He and Jaskier get on remarkably well, much to Lambert’s relief, and it only ever takes a few days for the rest of them to get used to the scent of Cat once again. They never get used to the way the two of them interact though, trading words at rather worryingly high speeds.  It’s usually not a bother until Aiden starts showing off his swordsmanship. 

“Wait, you’ve never done that last one before!” Jaskier exclaims, closing his journal as he leans forward, his eyes wide.

Aiden grins. “Glad you noticed, I learnt it last season.”

Lambert throws an apple at him, scoffing. Aiden simply catches it, taking a bite before throwing it to Jaskier, who may or may not loudly yelp as he receives it. 

“Show off,” Lambert grumbles, folding his arms. 

Taking a moment to bow, Aiden turns back to Jaskier. “Want to see the rest of my sword tricks?”

Jaskier chokes on the bite he’d taken of the apple but nods even as he coughs, ignoring the concerned looks he gets from the wolves. He gets about halfway into the apple before Aiden’s movements are just a little too smooth and intricate for his heart to handle. Well, not _just_ his heart.

“For gods’ sake, Jaskier,” Geralt mutters, swiftly standing up and making his way out of the room. 

“I’m not to blame here!” Jaskier calls, trying his best not to think about everything he’s practically being baited into thinking about.

Eskel is the next to sigh. “You think too loudly sometimes.”

Aiden watches in utter bewilderment as both he and Lambert make their exit too, the two of them grumbling about wanting to eat in peace. He turns to Jaskier with one eyebrow raised.

“They’re not fond of when I smell like sex to them,” Jaskier explains sheepishly, “and I’m pretty sure it’s a wolf thing.” 

There’s a slight pause before Aiden nods slowly. “That explains a lot actually. Why didn’t I pick up on that while travelling with Lam?”

Jaskier’s not sure if that’s meant to be a rhetorical question or not so he takes a chance. “I’d be surprised if you did, they feel bad about it so they act as if they’re allergic to discussing it.”

Then something seems to occur to Aiden and his eyes widen comically. “Wait,  _ all  _ the wolves?”

Catching on immediately, Jaskier goes red. “I’ll have you know, Vesemir was somehow the easiest to communicate with about all this.” 

“You’re crazy,” Aiden laughs, bounding over and taking the apple back despite Jaskier’s half-hearted protests even as he decides to respect the bard just a little bit more.

* * *

**+1**

Jaskier can never guess when he’s going to have a crisis.

He wishes he had some witcher-like ability to detect trouble before it arrives but alas, he doesn’t. He doesn’t have the power to stop himself panicking and he doesn't have the power to prepare for every possibility and he doesn’t even have his witchers and by the gods does he yearn for their presence.

But he’s not selfish, he isn’t going to ask them to accompany him to bardic competitions because a city full of bards being bards is most definitely too overwhelming for them. He’s sure they’re more than happy killing drowners and bruxae and wraiths and who knows what else wherever they are but _he’s_ certainly not happy.

Although that’s a lie, of course he is.

He loves being around his fellow bards - some more than others, of course - and he loves that they can effortlessly switch between discussing chords, sharing the latest court scandals, and making fun of one another’s love lives.  What he doesn’t love, however, is being alone at the end of every day. 

“I hate this room,” he mutters to himself as he flops onto the bed.

“No you don’t,” Geralt says quietly.

Jaskier is loath to admit that he jumps so badly he literally falls off the bed.

“There’s that grace and dignity we all love,” Eskel teases.

“What the he--eyy!” Jaskier manages as Lambert all but tackles him, sending them both back to the floor he’d just picked himself up from. Neither of them move to get up though.

“There is a perfectly adequate bed right beside us, if you would kindly give me a moment to recover from your pleasant but wholly unexpected arrival!”

He hears Geralt and Eskel laugh and the next thing he knows, he’s sandwiched between three witchers on the bed that’s mercifully large enough to accommodate all four of them. He’s almost entirely certain Priscilla had something to do with that upgrade and makes a mental note to thank her later.

“You smell sad,” Geralt says eventually, frowning.

Jaskier sighs. “I’m not sad, my dear, I’m just worried that three of you won’t enjoy your stay here, what with all the… bardic watermelon.”

Eskel’s arm around his waist tightens. “We don’t mind if you don’t mind.”

Jaskier’s face scrunches up as he tries to make sense of that and Lambert, who’s curled up in front of him, snorts. “You’re gonna give yourself wrinkles.” 

“Take that back, I am  _ not _ !” Jaskier argues, pouting. Before he can be totally distracted, he manages to turn his entire body around so he’s now facing Eskel and Geralt. “Are you going to explain what I’m meant to be minding?”

Surprisingly, Geralt finds his words first. “Just that… that we can’t always help you. We can’t be what you need or what you want and-”

“I am going to stop you right there before I end up punching you,” Jaskier interrupts, his voice a strange mix of cold and loving. 

“It wouldn’t hurt,” Lambert supplies reassuringly, now from behind him.

Jaskier groans, butting his head against Eskel’s in frustration. Not even particularly hard but Eskel looks so confused that Jaskier ends up wiggling out of their cuddle pile and glaring at three of them when they sheepishly sit up.

“Did the lot of you trade _all_ your marbles to get here?” he asks, folding his arms.

Lambert opens his mouth to reply but Eskel clamps a hand over it, correctly assuming that they’re not meant to answer that. 

“I won’t lie and tell you I’ll only say this once because I will gladly repeat it whenever any of you act like you’ve forgotten but, my loves, I do not care. I do not care if you don’t enjoy all the same things I do and I do not care if your desires are different to mine. The only thing - and you must believe me for I would never _ever_ lie about this - that I truly care about is you. All three of you.”

“But we don’t always know how to take care of you,” Geralt whispers, his voice filled with enough emotion to rival half of Jaskier’s ballads.

“Don’t you?” Jaskier asks, tilting his head to the left. “Tell me this, Geralt: why are you here?”

“You don’t like being alone after important performances,” Geralt replies without missing a beat.

Jaskier grins at him before turning to Eskel. “And you?”

“You deserve to have our support,” Eskel says softly, as if it were a common truth.

Lambert shrugs when Jaskier turns to him. “Why would I let you get drunk alone?”

Waiting until they’re done being amused, Jaskier glances between the three of them. “Don’t you see? You already know _exactly_ how and when to take care of me. I can manage what little you can’t and I am more than happy with that because I am more than happy with  _ you _ . Each of you. Just as you are. Do you understand?”

“If we say yes, will you stop being so bloody dramatic?” Lambert asks, definitely not swallowing an obvious lump in his throat, definitely not. 

“We understand,” Eskel adds before Jaskier can reply, a soft smile on his face.

The four of them settle into their cuddle pile once again, Geralt reaching over Eskel and placing his hand on Jaskier’s waist as he whispers, “Thank you.” 

Jaskier wants to laugh because he honestly can't see how his gorgeous, kind-hearted witchers continue to think they're not the most perfect bunch of people on the continent despite the flaws they actually have and the ones they only think they have, and he has no idea why they can't see that if they're lucky to have one of him loving them, he's _thrice_ as lucky to have three of them loving him.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Jaskier whispers back.

**Author's Note:**

> again, this was entirely self-indulgent and i'm sorry for the canon divergence / ooc vibes but like i just wanted some ace validation and fluff, yaknow?  
> oh and happy ace week to anyone on the ace spectrum, y'all are valid and ily <3<3<3
> 
> thanks for reading !! toss a kudos/comment? xx


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